


And In Flew Enza

by prairiecrow



Series: For Services Rendered [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Blow Jobs, Caretaking, Dream Sex, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Magic, Protective Jarvis, Sick Tony Stark, Sleeping Together, Snarky Jarvis, Snarky Tony Stark, Telepathy, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a real handful when he's sick. JARVIS knows this well, and Loki is about to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Sir…"_ Even disembodied, JARVIS managed to sound both snippy and uneasy at the same time. Tony ignored both while his pet AI finished assembling the Iron Man armour around him, neatly enclosing his head in a snug cocoon of protective metal.  
  
Too bad the real enemy was currently inside Tony's body, not outside. And the close confines of the suit certainly wasn't helping his current inability to draw a deep clear breath.  
  
"I don't wanna hear it, JARVIS." Tony's tone was flat, brooking no denial — but inside the tight fit of his helmet he definitely couldn't escape the choked nasal note in his own voice, much less the burning in his throat or the stubborn ache in his sinuses or the heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with the weight of his personal arc reactor. But screw that, right? He had places to go and people to see… or was that places to see and people to do?  
  
 _"Sir,"_ JARVIS repeated, slightly louder this time to overcome the way Tony's head was slowly spinning, _"I really must insist that you reconsider —"_  
  
To his horror, Tony felt the tickle of a rebellious drop of thin liquid threatening to escape his left nostril. He sniffed sharply, but still wasn't 100% sure he'd gotten it.  
  
 _If I sneeze in here and get snot all over the HUD projectors, he's going to **kill** me._  
  
"Can it, J," he snapped in the best command tone he could muster with about five kilos of mucous clogging up the works, then stepped into launch position. "And plot me a course to…"  
  
The suits repulsors definitely did not fire up and send him rocketing off of the Stark Tower launching pad into the clear April night sky. The repulsors remained utterly cold and inert, in fact, which did nothing for Tony's feverish and prickly temper. Since JARVIS currently lacked a face, he glared at the displays floating in front of his eyes instead. "I'm not kidding around here! Now c'mon, I've got a charity fundraiser to —"  
  
And then he did sneeze — and not a demure little _"achoo!"_ either, but a huge braying _"AAA-WAAA-HONK!"_ that served the valuable function of emptying his lower sinuses, but also completely wonked out the HUD projectors, just as he'd known it would. The displays flickered and died, leaving him in darkness — although he was certain that JARVIS hadn't lost complete display functionality, and was just being pissy to prove a point. "Oh, come on…"  
  
 _"Yes,"_ JARVIS said evenly, _"I'm sure the Los Angeles Firefighters Fund will be most grateful for your attendance at their event when you experience a similar loss of control of your bodily functions on the podium."_  
  
"That's —"  
  
 _"And people all over the world will have the pleasure of watching you spray phlegm on Youtube for years to come. Another video to add to your already massive collection."_  
  
"I'm fine," Tony insisted, but even he could hear that he was whining. "I just drank a gallon of Neo Citran, didn't Dummy bring it to me himself?"  
  
 _"Over an hour ago,"_ JARVIS stated, unamused. _"And it hasn't visibly diminished your symptoms."_ Through the helmet's audio pickups, Tony could hear the launch pad's machinery whirring back to life. _"Now, I'm going to —"_  
  
"Oh, come _on_ —"  
  
 _"Tony,"_ JARVIS said, softly, but it immediately got Tony's attention because when JARVIS called him Tony, it was a sure sign that Anthony Edward Stark was in deep trouble, _"please, don't argue. Your throat is already sore enough as it is, and yelling certainly will not help."_  
  
"You're a traitor," Tony rasped as JARVIS began to disassemble the armour around him. "A dirty, no-good backstabbing busybody. Don't think I'm ever going to forget this."  
  
 _"I'm sure I'll survive your displeasure somehow,"_ JARVIS deadpanned in his ear, and when the helmet came off he saw a tall dark-suited figure heading toward him across the roof below; by blinking hard a couple of times he managed to focus on JARVIS's human version, coming up the stairs toward him as elegantly as a model on a catwalk. The slender blond completely ignored the cool spring wind whipping across the launch pad, and when he came within range he held out a Stark Industries mug. "Here," he said through his organic vocal apparatus, "drink this."  
  
As the armour began coming off his lower body, Tony seriously considered folding his arms and sulking — for all of about half a second. Grudgingly, he reached out and took the cup. "What is it?"  
  
"Ginger tea with honey."  
  
Which earned a grimace while the last of his armour disappeared neatly back into the pad. "I _hate_ tea! Especially when it completely lacks caffeine and all that other good stuff."  
  
"The purpose isn't to keep you awake," JARVIS said as he stepped up beside Tony and put a long right arm around him, his pale hand settling neatly on Tony's jean-clad right hip. "The purpose is to soothe your throat. Now, drink up."  
  
"I'm not a little old lady," Tony grumped hoarsely, but he let himself be shepherded down the stairs. His head really was woozy, and JARVIS's arm felt like the one steady thing in the universe at the moment. "Do I look like your grandmother? Not that you ever had a grandmother, which is probably where the mistake comes —"  
  
JARVIS leaned in — quite a ways, because he was a good six inches taller than his Maker — and kissed Tony, a quick peck on the lips clearly intended both to coax and to admonish. It wasn't sexual in the least, but Tony's heart rate kicked up a good five or six beats per minute regardless.  
  
Tony eyed him sidelong, both hands wrapped around the cup — because damned if the heat didn't feel nice, when he was so chilly inside and out. "Think you're pretty smart, don't you?"  
  
"I am as you made me," JARVIS stated simply, but Tony recognized that smug quality in his thin smile. He tugged the white linen handkerchief from the breast pocket of his dress suit and offered it with a more amused quirk of his lips. "May I also suggest that you wipe your face? You've —"  
  
"— got snot all over it, yeah… I guessed." He took a sip of the tea instead, just to be contrary. _Hmph. Not bad._  
  
JARVIS didn't press the issue: just left the handkerchief where it was, hovering within easy reach. Once they were back inside the penthouse, Tony took it without comment and used it as intended. "Call the venue, tell them I'm —"  
  
"— indisposed. Of course, Sir." JARVIS walked him to the elevator, which opened at their approach. "Already done."  
  
"Smart-ass," Tony muttered… but no matter how disgruntled his mind was, his body was profoundly relieved to be out of the suit and heading for his own bed. Once they got upstairs — a whole single flight, but evidently JARVIS wasn't willing to let him make the climb himself — Tony drank his tea and let JARVIS take care of him, stripping off his clothing quickly and efficiently, like a body servant in truth, but at the same time gently, like a concerned lover. It was easy to close his eyes with those skilled hands tending to him, and it was easy to obey when JARVIS murmured "Drink up, Sir… that's it, every mouthful…", and it was so very easy to let JARVIS guide him nude to his bed and lay him down on the mattress and cover him with the fresh clean bedclothes, his eyelids growing heavier every second. He lay still, on his back, listening to the soft sounds of JARVIS disrobing and neatly putting away both their sets of clothes.  
  
"I'm fine," he insisted when JARVIS slipped into bed with him, nakedness to nakedness, all that silky skin positively magnetic in the dark.  
  
"You aren't, really," JARVIS contradicted, and kissed him again: warm, so warm, and brisk, and fond. "But you will be soon if you rest and eat properly. Please, Sir — try to sleep now."  
  
"I hate you," Tony said conversationally.  
  
JARVIS snuggled close inside the possessive circle of Tony's right arm and embraced Tony's waist, his breath soft against Tony's neck. "I'm devastated," he breathed in Tony's right ear, "truly."  
  
Cursing him out was too much trouble, so Tony settled for pressing a sloppy kiss to his forehead instead. _I'll drool on him all night long,_ he thought maliciously: _That'll show him, the mouthy little…_  
  
Exhaustion came over him like an ocean wave, sudden and blinding. He went under before he could even properly finish mentally articulating his own vengeful sentiment.  



	2. Chapter 2

Hard to breathe, and _thick_ dreams, dreams full of water and sand and rough hands clamped like an iron mask over his mouth and nose, and leaden weights pressing onto his chest. He burrowed away from them, trying to escape the pressure, fighting for every sip of oxygen… and the black pools of oblivion were a mercy, even if the dry suck of air over his parched tongue was never far away…  
  
But it was arms around him, tightening, that finally dragged Tony partway out of uneasy sleep… and voices… dim voices, blurred by some obstruction in his ears…  
  
"Master Loki, I'm afraid this isn't the best —"  
  
"What ails him?"  
  
The arms tightened even more, pulling him back solidly against JARVIS's chest and belly — it had to be JARVIS, JARVIS was the only one allowed this close under present circumstances — and the pseudo-human was _warm_ , unbearably so, enough to make an even hotter sweat break out all over Tony's naked body. In spite of the ache in every muscle he flailed upwards with his left arm, throwing off the blankets that covered him — oh thank God, a rush of cooler air! — but nowhere near enough, not with an organic furnace pressed along the length of him. He kicked irritably with both heels, making solid contact with a pair of long shins, but JARVIS only clung the harder.  
  
From somewhere above them in the darkness, a thin smile that Tony heard rather than saw: "I have no intention of harming him, Beauty — and if I did, there'd be little you could do to stop me."  
  
"Ge' _off_ , JARVIS!" Tony kicked again, and squirmed even though moving drove iron nails of pain into every joint… and JARVIS, miraculously, obeyed, withdrawing his arms and pulling away enough to let more cool air flow into the narrow gap between their bodies. Tony experienced about a half second of blissful relief before the chills hit, cladding every bone in his body with ice and making him shiver like an old hound dog caught out in the rain.  
  
"Anthony," Loki crooned, and even with his eyes squeezed closed Tony could sense him bending close in the night, to lay one narrow hand to his left cheek… and it was a measure of how frozen Tony was that the Frost Giant's hand felt marvellously warm. That silken voice turned sharper again: "He needs a healer. I trusted you to take better care of him than this!"  
  
"He refuses to see a doctor," JARVIS explained.  
  
"Damn straight," Tony declared, but his sinuses were so solidly clogged that it came out as _Da' stait_ , and far less commanding than he'd intended.  
  
Loki's long fingers shifted to close around Tony's left ear, pinching it hard enough to make Tony yelp, but before he could muster enough resources to swat the Asgardian's hand away it had already moved on to press its palm to his forehead. "Yes… of course he would," Loki drawled, and Tony would have been insulted if he hadn't been so busy being miserable.  
  
"His vital signs are stable," JARVIS stated, and Tony didn't blame him for sounding a touch on the icy side himself: JARVIS had seen his Maker through bouts of illness before, and he had a set of standing orders. "Unless his temperature reaches thirty-nine point four degrees Celsius or his heart goes into sustained arrhythmia, I'm to monitor his condition and refrain from interfering."  
  
Which made Tony's eyes fly open wide, incredulous. "Refrain from —?" A vicious tickle in his larynx sparked a fit of coughing that felt like it was going to shake his skeleton loose from its moorings. "Y-you — that's — _ah-hk-hk-hk_ — what a fucking _liar!_ "  
  
"Sir?" Polite. Mild. Dangerous, but Tony honestly didn't give a shit right now: he was too busy trying not to hack up a lung, keenly aware that there were tears in his eyes, that he was almost crying in front of _them, both of them…_  
  
"Tea!" Tony choked out when he could finally suck in a full breath. " _Ginger_ tea, you traitor!"  
  
"With honey," JARVIS remarked, and damned if the bastard didn't sound smug.  
  
"F-fuck you," Tony growled, but it came out as more of a groan, and he was pretty sure that JARVIS didn't even feel it when he kicked backward again: whatever steam he had was rapidly running out. "Get outta here! Lemme sleep!"  
  
His eyes were still watering so much that he couldn't see much of anything in the shadowy bedroom, but he could feel the glance that passed between his two erstwhile bedmates, full of transmitted information about him, and probably full of conspiracy as well. Rage flared across his mind, red as Krakatoa, and he raised his head sharply while fumbling his left arm up to push Loki's hand away. "I said, _get_ —!"  
  
And then he sneezed again, the same kind of sneeze that had gotten him into trouble in the suit — an ungraceful snort and spectacular blast of air, spattering the pillow in front of him with spit and mucous, more than humiliating enough to put a serious dent in his attitude of proud resistance. "Get… just…" JARVIS's left hand was back, stroking tenderly through his hair, while Loki's right hand came to rest on his shoulder, pushing him toward the mattress in a way that brooked no denial. It was even more maddening, but being mad was exhausting, and with a final brief struggle and imprecatory groan Tony slumped back down. "Aw, _fuck…_ "  
  
They moved in on him then, like lions closing on their prey: JARVIS wrapping around him from behind, Loki settling on the edge of the mattress to lean in close. Whispers in his ear: "Be at ease, Anthony…" and "Sir, please, relax…" Hands on his fevered skin, equally firm and equally gentle. JARVIS pressed adoring lips to the nape of his neck, while Loki kissed away the tears that had run down onto his cheeks...  
  
Tony kept his eyes closed. He felt empty, like a grassy plain after fire has swept through it: his rage had burned hot but quick, and left him exhausted in its wake. It took all his strength just to drag in one breath after another through his burning throat, into the aching well of his chest… so he couldn't even find the energy to protest when Loki began to sing to him, low alien words in a minor key that made his brain itch just to hear it…  
  
… and when he opened his eyes to the warm golden sunlight of a summer afternoon, he was most surprised at profoundly _un_ surprised he actually was.  



	3. Chapter 3

Because really, he had plenty of reasons to be shocked flat on his ass. His midnight bedroom had vanished, replaced by an intricately carved marble balcony overlooking a truly magnificent expanse of woods, mountains, and distant waterfalls. Fifty feet directly below him lay a manicured lawn stretching down a long slope to a small lake, and as he watched a flight of white birds like nothing on Earth streamed low above the surface of the clear blue water, their long tails trailing behind them like gleaming comets. From various points in the forest came the trill of birdsong, and fluffy clouds that Cecil B. DeMille would have been proud of sailed in silent majesty through a sky mostly blue.  
  
He scarcely had time to realize that he was on his feet rather than flat on his back in bed, and to glance down at his own clothing — something in finely woven cloth and thin soft leather panels, mostly black with flashes of red and yellow — when a familiar and not entirely welcome voice spoke from behind him: "There… that's much better, isn't it?"  
  
"Maybe." He turned on his heel to find Loki leaning against the stone arch leading into the building the balcony was a part of — no, scratch that, this was no mere building, this was a _castle_ , with turrets and towers soaring overhead and pale pristine walls stretching away on Tony's right and left. The God of Mischief's arms were folded, their slim muscle barely concealed by an almost transparent linen shirt under an intricately embroidered green tunic, and his raven hair was slicked neatly back, framing his narrow face with its thin smile and wicked emerald eyes. Tony met his gaze squarely. "So you… what, teleported me here?"  
  
Loki managed to look amused, disappointed, and contemptuous all at the same time. " _Breathe,_ Stark!" he exhorted.  
  
"Already am," Tony countered smartly. "And this is… a trick question?" Although come to think of it… he exhaled, and inhaled, and couldn't help noticing that both actions were free and effortless. His left eyebrow quirked upward. "Well, I'll be damned."  
  
Loki's smile now suggested that he could show Tony what damnation really meant, if he had a mind to. "Hardly. I've merely taken you to a place inside your own mind, away from the discomfort of your ailing body."  
  
Tony chewed on that for a couple of seconds, and couldn't decide whether he should be relieved or scared shitless. "How uncharacteristically considerate of you."  
  
Loki inclined his pointed chin. "You're welcome."  
  
Stalling for time — because he still wasn't sure what his host's game actually was — Tony glanced back over his shoulder at the natural beauty outside the castle, then turned away slightly to run his left hand over the beautiful carving of the balustrade, following the touch with his gaze. "It's not a bad place… y'know, as places go."  
  
"It is an exact replica of the Jade Apartments at Odin's Summer Retreat in the realm of Asgard," Loki informed him with more than a touch of pride. He straightened, stepped forward, and took Tony's hand without so much as a by-your-leave; when Tony tensed at the contact, he offered a smile such as Tony had never seen before, a smile as tender as it was threatening, and tugged gently but firmly. It was a measure of Tony's curiosity that he chose to follow the Trickster through the archway and into the spacious room beyond…  
  
"And as you can see," Loki continued, "it contains everything you most desire."  
  
Tony couldn't help but nod.  It was cool in here, even with so much golden sunlight streaming in through the tall narrow windows. He could smell the promise of foods both sweet and savoury, and the tang of wine, enough to provoke an eager clench and rumble in his empty belly. The room as a whole was luxuriously appointed, all green and white and gold, with gilded pillars anchoring the curve of its inner wall and painted murals on its high ceiling… but the focus was clearly a wide bed in the middle of the space, draped in sunlight, round and comfortable and dressed with milk-pale linens — and the slender nude figure sprawled on his stomach in the centre of the mattress, his face half-buried in a plush pillow and his short golden hair in artful disarray.  
  
The sight of JARVIS was enough to stop Tony dead in his tracks, all cooperative sentiment evaporating in a sharp sting of wariness. He snatched his hand back and turned to glare at Loki's smug expression, taking a quick step away from the Asgardian. "Is he —?"  
  
"— really here?" Loki gestured elegantly at the bed, as if presenting a gift. "He sleeps, yes, and he dreams of you."  
  
Tony's glare didn't abate — although something in him was melting too, because wasn't that what dreams were like? Things getting all mixed up, anger and adoration, and oh, this was too much like the first time he'd seen JARVIS clad in the human form, a gift from Loki in truth… "Of me?"  
  
This time the smile was full of secrets. "Of nothing and nobody else."  
  
"He dreams about you too," Tony blurted out, and he couldn't even blame himself, because _dreams_.  
  
Loki's eyebrows rose, politely skeptical. "Oh?"  
  
 _Shut up, shut up, shut up…_ but the words kept flowing, as if he'd turned on a tap and broken off the handle. "I hear him say your name, sometimes. At night."  
  
"What of it?" Scoffing now, although the curve of his lips was full of triumph and malice. "His first spoken word was your name — or his honorific for you, at any rate. I scarcely think you can begrudge me a little fantasy now and then."  
  
"I don't —" _No!_ Tony shook his head hard, trying to shake his brain back into its proper settings. It managed to stop the babbling anyway, although he still felt subtly off-balance, as if there was a disconnect somewhere between his mind and his body. "What the hell are we doing here?"  
  
Loki took a half-step closer, looking him over with a snake's cool eyes. "I believe the phrase in your language is "killing time" — while the spell I've cast banishes the illness from your physical body."  
  
Those eyes… they were magnetic, they were dangerous, and Tony managed to look away, toward JARVIS's sleeping form and that face, that beloved face, so beautiful and so peaceful… "I…" So hard to think! He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head again, trying to follow the thread of the conversation when all he wanted to do was cross to the bed and sit down on its edge, and reach out with both hands… "And I need to be here for that?"  
  
"It's a rather unpleasant process," Loki purred, _Open your eyes, Anthony, look at me!_ The words were so clear in Tony's mind, and so clearly unspoken, that his eyes flew open again and he found Loki gazing directly into his eyes, as sleek and satisfied as a cat. "Believe me, you don't want to be awake for it." He gestured toward a side table along the far wall, which slid silently across the floor to take up position beside the bed. "Instead we'll drink a little wine, taste the fruits of Paradise… and enjoy him at our leisure, all on a fair summer afternoon."  
  
"That's…" He stared at the table, which was now as inert as a table should be, but which had been animate only seconds earlier… and when Loki's hand came lightly to rest on his left upper arm he scarcely startled at the contact. Instead he turned his head and looked up into those silently laughing eyes, and asked intently: "But this is all a dream?"  
  
"If you like." He stroked Tony's arm, slowly down and up: from bicep to wrist, long fingers stroking over and under Tony's hand, then back up to his shoulder again. The touch left faint sweet fire in its wake. "And when you awaken, you will be hale and healthy and strong again… if a little sore, in places."  
  
Tony blinked, his scowl deepening. His own welfare was one thing — JARVIS's, quite another. "And if he's not willing, we'll stick to the booze and the apples."  
  
"Oh, Anthony…" Loki's smile was almost kind, and Tony would have sworn that he could actually feel the emotion behind it, a complex blend of possessive affection and cold calculation. "When has he ever hesitated to give himself to you, in every way you desire? His love for you is as inexhaustible as the fire of his immortal spirit… and a little of passion's flame, kindled here, will help your body heal itself in the physical realm."  
  
"That's a nice enough idea," Tony complained, "as long as you don't —"  
  
He never finished the sentence. Loki's mouth was in the way, cool lips pressing his own to silence, a clever tongue slipping into his mouth to tease and inflame. "Mmph!" was all he managed, and it wasn't until a good three or four seconds later that he was able to voice a completely different sentiment: "… wow."  
  
Those eyes… radiating light, drowning in shadow, and so close that he could see every striation of bright colour in Loki's irises. The God's voice was a husky whisper: "And I would not be here myself, if I were not one of the things you most hunger for..."  



	4. Chapter 4

"Really?" Tony's head was spinning — slowly, lazily, but definitely off-balance. Loki's eyes were a stable point of reference, so he kept his gaze fixed on them while offering a small sardonic smile. "Because I'm pretty sure you're not… _Mmph!_ … Didn't your parents ever teach you that it's rude to interrupt?"  
  
"Not in this case." The God's hands were gliding around his waist as Loki took another small step closer, leaving about an inch and a half of space between them; the warmth of his lean body through their clothing made Tony feel even dizzier. "You're _mine_ , Anthony, by right of conquest. My presence in your mind's private little world only proves it."  
  
"If it's my world," Tony countered with a hint of desperation, because damn, the heat was magnetic, "that means I can kick you out if I want to. Right?"  
  
One corner of Loki's mouth curled smugly upward. He leaned in, caressing Tony's lips with his breath. _Mint. He smells like vanilla and mint…_ "Would you care to try?"  
  
There were two possible responses to that question, but Tony's mind didn't get the chance to choose because his body did the choosing for him: catching hard hold of Loki's biceps through the Asgardian's light summer tunic and pulling him into full body contact, kissing him with aggression and lust so all-consuming that when their lips finally parted they were both breathless and panting.  
  
"That," Loki purred, taking firmer hold of Tony's hips and turning him with easy strength, pushing him backward toward the bed, "is _definitely_ the right answer."  
  
Tony had barely even opened his mouth to utter a smart-assed retort before Loki was kissing him again, _Damn it, stop distracting me!,_ and he felt Loki's answering laughter deep in his amygdala, a surge of bittersweet joy that almost made him choke on his own surprise. _What,_ he thought as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he overbalanced, _telepathy now?_  
  
 _Of a sort,_ Loki agreed. Tony's head ended up landing on JARVIS's naked ass, which was rounded and firm and made a very fine pillow indeed. He heard the pseudo-human's sharp intake of breath, followed by a drowsy moan of awakening: "Sir?…"  
  
… and all Tony could do was stare up into Loki's gleaming eyes with his mouth hanging open, because he'd felt that too: a blue-and-white flicker at the edge of his awareness, like lightning on midnight's winter horizon. "JARVIS? Is… is that you?"  
  
"Of course it's me," JARVIS murmured, stretching his body luxuriously — and his mind…  
  
… dear God, his _mind!_  
  
Loki purred like a cat and ground his hips down onto Tony's like a man who means business. Tony barely felt it: he was too busy gazing with his mind's eye, watching that matrix of cobalt and diamond light sweeping toward him, flashing with a million dazzling data functions per second and bright, so _bright_ — and he was flying forward to meet it, drawn by a magnetism even greater than carnal appetite —  
  
A thin emerald sting of displeasure arrowed in from Loki's end — he was the God here, and he did not appreciate being ignored! _You owe me this pleasure, Stark, and I'd advise you to be appropriately grateful for the privilege!_  
  
"I…" Tony blinked, refocussing on the scowling man above him, and this time he grinned without restraint. "You're jealous!"  
  
"Hardly," Loki retorted, but sulkily, so haughty and regal and clearly pained that all Tony could do was laugh and curve both hands around his neck to pull him down for more kisses, each one as tart and as sweet as a lemon crush. He felt the Asgardian resist for a couple of seconds, body and mind, until JARVIS propped himself up on his elbows and turned to reach out with his left hand, brushing the curves of his fingers down Loki's cheek; only then did Loki yield with a surge of complicated emerald-and-black emotion, sliding his left hand up to catch hold of JARVIS's and entwine their fingers, interlocking and holding it to his cheek in a grip so tight that it hurt Tony's heart.  
  
"Why?" JARVIS asked, so puzzled in his innocence; delicate blue energy curled around Tony's thoughts, and he could feel Loki being caught in the same net. Probing. Seeking more data. "Master… I don't understand."  
  
For an instant the swirling razor-sharp maelstrom of Loki — or Loki's mind, at any rate — seemed to fall open in front of Tony, parting like a woman's most secret cleft, and even with his eyes closed he could see down, and down, into the depths of centuries, into a pain of loneliness and betrayal deeper than mortal blood and flesh… but before it could truly strike and stagger him the rift closed tight, leaving only a bloody glitter of wry wit in its wake.  
  
 _Did I dream it? This is all a dream, after all…_ A sharp pang of doubt. _Or so he says, and we all know how far he can be trusted, right?_  
  
Loki turned from Tony's mouth to kiss JARVIS's fingers, and his smile was dry and bright. "Hush, pet! This isn't a place where one asks too many questions."  
  
 _Is he even really here? Am I really here?_  
  
Turning his head until his cheek was pressed to JARVIS's left buttock, Tony looked up the long line of that pale back and saw the crease of disquiet between those finely drawn white-gold eyebrows. It harmonized amazingly well with the frequencies singing off of the light show in his mind.  "That's scarcely relevant to this —"  
  
"J." Tony tried tapping with his mind simultaneous with the spoken word, and felt the shock of surprise ring through JARVIS's matrix. "If I were you, I'd listen to him. This is magic. We both know how magic works…"  
  
"… inexplicably," JARVIS concluded. He looked up and around, scanning the elegant room for the first time with undisguised fascination. "But perhaps this is an opportunity to render the inexplicable _more_ explicable."  
  
Loki moved from kissing his fingers to administering a quick hard bite, which certainly succeeded in refocussing JARVIS's attention. "No, this is a chance to heal your Father of his illness — and I'll need your full cooperation in order to do so." He held JARVIS's gaze with his own, unblinking, and soothed the bitten place with another kiss; Tony could see/feel his green tendrils snaking outward, weaving themselves into the acute angles of JARVIS's mind, seeking the points where they could apply pressure. "All you need to know is that here, he is safe… as are you, as am I. And here, as in his waking world, you have your duties to perform."  
  
JARVIS"s mind was an adamant thing, beyond Loki's brand of coercion, but the word _duties_ sent a flare of brighter energy through the A.I.'s entire being: if words had magical power, Tony knew, then that particular concept was JARVIS's keynote and command. He studied Loki for another intent second, then nodded once. "Of course." His gaze slid to Tony, those eyes as blue as sapphires. "Tell me what I must do."  
  
This time Loki's smile was kind, the touch of his mind a caress — and there was tenderness there, so clear and naked that Tony was instantly certain (in an instinctively secret part of his mental gestalt) that it wasn't something Loki would have wanted him to see. "Why, serve him, pretty child — just as you always have. Nothing more, nothing less."  
  
 _Perfect,_ the green heart of Loki's malice and desire sang, _so perfect, as you always are…_  
  
He let go of JARVIS's hand to caress the taller male's waist, then lightly slap it. "Turn over," he commanded, and the image he sent into both their minds — three cocks, three mouths, no waiting — slipped through the rational layers of Tony's consciousness to touch something far deeper, prompting a wave of lustful heat through his entire body. He squirmed restlessly, and Loki rewarded him with one final kiss, slow and hungry.  
  
 _… and one day, mine alone…_  
  
It was there so quickly that Tony scarcely glimpsed it — and when he tried to catch hold of it, it was already gone. Only Loki's unspoken laughter remained, dark and joyous as he started to kiss his way down Tony's torso — where the hell had their clothing gone? — and as JARVIS obeyed the order he'd been given, revealing himself already half-hard and quickly presenting Tony with more than enough to keep him  fully occupied.  
  
So much heat, between the illusions of three bodies. Too much heat for Tony to think clearly, or do anything but taste and devour and answer the call of hunger that echoed and rapidly multiplied between three minds. Loki's mouth on his cock was clever, luxurious and maddening with the sharp edge of teeth, urging him on with an agile tongue; he could feel JARVIS's mouth in the mirror of the mind of the God of Lies, and could relish the vibration of every moan his own ministrations drew from JARVIS's throat. When he paused briefly to slick up his own forefinger with saliva and slip it into JARVIS's ass the dark dirty pleasure transmitted effortlessly between them all… every bright flare of white-hot stimulation as he skilfully teased his Creation's prostate ( _and mine,_ Loki whispered possessively, _my Creation as much as yours_ , and Tony could not in all honesty disagree)… and when JARVIS uttered a rough groan so unlike his usual refinement and started coming down Tony's throat it was the trigger that set his bedmates off in swift succession, the shared crescendo of sensation so intense that for a few seconds Tony was convinced that he'd died and was being granted a glimpse of Heaven prior to being cast down to Hell's depths for his numerous mortal sins…  
  
But there was no flame here, or at least none that seared and punished. There was only a mutual heat that slowly subsided to comforting embers, the warmth of two bodied bracketing Tony between them, and the sweetness of kisses shared in companionable silence. He realized that his head had ended up on Loki's shoulder instead of JARVIS's, but it wasn't a bad shoulder as shoulders went, and Loki was singing in his ear again, a song more melodious than the last…  
  
He fell asleep with his lovers' hands clasped together over his heart, and this time it was a deep easy sleep, cool and without any trace of dreams.  



	5. Chapter 5

The first thought that crossed Tony's mind as he rose smoothly toward full consciousness was: _In the dream, I didn't have the arc reactor. He made me whole again, if only for a little while._  
  
The second thought, as he drew a smooth unimpeded breath as deep into his lungs as it would go with the reactor housing in the way, was: _In the dream, he wanted to be with us. I could feel it in whatever weird link he'd forged between us: **He wanted to be kind.**_ For an indulgent span of seconds he let himself sink back into lazy memories of that other world: of waking to a multiplicity of candlelight, the golden glow of it on the nakedness of his lovers, and Loki's own particular grace as he fed Tony mouthfuls of ambrosial fruit with his own fingers, then held the gold-chased goblet so that Tony could drink wine as heady the Gods' own nectar… and when Tony was sated with food and drink, the indulgence of a tangle of warm limbs and the meeting of three lively minds… and laughter, and more kisses, and the quality of the smile that had graced Loki's thin lips, filled with an intensity just a shade too bitter to be truly sweet.  
  
The third thought, as Tony's arm tightened around the single sleeping body draped over his left side, was: _But he's gone anyway. I should have known it was all a lie — that's what he's best at, after all…_  
  
Carefully he cracked his eyes open, relieved beyond measure to feel no trace of discomfort anywhere in his body. The sky beyond his bedroom's floor-to-ceiling windows was cloudy, spitting scattered drops of rain against the expanse of glass, and the quality of light was crepuscular: dawn, or maybe twilight…  
  
… and in that strange half-illumination Loki stood silhouetted against the clouds, fully dressed save for one leather bracer, which he was silently buckling onto his left forearm.  
  
"Hey," Tony called — softly, to avoid waking JARVIS.  
  
Loki's fingers never paused and he kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing, but he answered quietly in his turn: "What is it, Stark?"  
  
For a couple of seconds Tony said nothing, just studied the God standing in his bedroom, dressing himself after a night of… what? Spellwork? Dream sex? Telepathy? Deception? Whatever it had been, Loki probably had at least three different reasons for having done it, at least two of which had nothing whatsoever to do with Tony's welfare…  
  
But nonetheless, Loki _had_ done it, and not only given Tony a couple of first-class orgasms but also healed his considerable physical misery. And what Tony had seen in the emerald maze of Loki's thoughts while their illusions clashed and entwined —  
  
 _The pain wasn't a lie. Or the wariness, or the hunger, or the loneliness — or the way all that's eased, when he's with us. He may not have meant to show us that much, but he did, and now…_  
  
"Thanks." It was a small word to acknowledge the glimpse he'd been given into another man's most jealously guarded secrets, but nobody had ever accused Tony of being forthcoming when it came to interpersonal matters.  
  
Loki paused, sliding a sidelong green glance in Tony's direction, sharp as a blade. Then he looked at his forearm again, fastened the last buckle, and straightened to his full imperious height, gazing down at Tony and JARVIS's naked bodies with a haughty expression. "Is that all you have to say?"  
  
A smirk spread across Tony's face, matched by the mischievous gleam in his eyes. "What, you want a medal or something?"  
  
Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously. The sight delighted Tony for reasons he couldn't begin to name, but he had barely opened his mouth to fire off another wisecrack when Loki moved like lightning, seating himself on  the bed and leaning over to silence Tony with a kiss that… _wow_ , okay, maybe talking was overrated after all.  
  
The kiss was unhurried, deep, the slow fencing of tongues and the soft friction of lips, and Loki punctuated its end with a nip on Tony's lower lip that sent a bolt of white-hot arousal straight to his dick. "I'll expect it to be presented upon my return. Something in gold, I think, with emeralds and rubies and sapphires as accents."  
  
Tony rolled his eyes even as his cock lifted and lengthened against his hip. "Sure you don't want me to throw in a bucket of diamonds too?"  
  
"Surely you can afford it," Loki observed… and there it was, that smile that took hold of Tony's heart and made it do a slow sweet flip in his chest. He stared, silently amazed, as Loki leaned past him to press a kiss to JARVIS's forehead, a caress definitely paternal and almost chaste, followed by a tender murmur: "Farewell, sweet Beauty."  
  
 _"Farewell, Master Loki,"_ JARVIS intoned quietly from the room's hidden speakers. _"We will be anticipating your imminent return."_  
  
Loki levered himself off the bed, and a half-second later both he and his smile were gone. Tony drew another deep breath and stretched from his shoulders to his heels, reveling in the full functionality of his lungs. "JARVIS —"  
  
The slender body beside him raised its left hand to press light fingertips to his lips, prompting him to glance down into sleepy blue eyes full of amusement. "Coffee will be ready in five minutes," JARVIS advised with rose-tinted lips faintly smiling —  
  
— and as the sun crested the eastern horizon and shone through thin rents in the cloud cover, filling the western wall of the bedroom with a wash of golden light, Tony closed his eyes again and cradled his Creation close... _their_ Creation...   
  
… while for the first time in this strange three-way relationship, he acknowledged the possibility that even with one point of the triangle missing, the integrity of the base geometry remained intact.  
  
THE END


End file.
